This Can Be Your Memory
by SilverChrysanth
Summary: A box full of memories and tapes full of stories. It should be harmless, right?


_I had an outline for this. I really did. But instead of nicely following the path, it just kind of jumped off and ran into the woods like an insane person._

* * *

Nick trudged through the door, closing it roughly behind him. He paused to take in a synthetic breath of his residence and the familiar smells that hung around it like fog. When it had sufficiently sunk in, he shuffled to the back room and dropped onto the worn, yellowed couch. He leaned his head back, sliding off his fedora and closing his eyes.

It'd been a long case. It wasn't particularly hard, but he had run all across the 'Wealth looking for clues for a mass brahmin killer, only to find that it was the client all along. Something about trying to throw off suspicion, but all he ended up doing was putting the spotlight on himself. Nick opened his eyes and replaced his fedora so he could light a smoke. The motion allowed him to finally relax.

"Nick, is that you?" a voice called from upstairs. Rachel.

"Yeah, it's me," he called back.

Footsteps carried down, and a moment later Nick's secretary appeared from around the corner. "Welcome back! How did the case go? It sure was a long one."

"Can't say I much enjoyed it; the serial cattle killer tattled on himself." He'd go into more detail, but he didn't have it in him quite yet.

Rachel frowned. "He did still pay you though, right?" at the look Nick gave her over his cigarette, she shrugged and turned back to the main room. Before she disappeared around the corner again, she stopped. "Oh, by the way, I was cleaning out some old files in the attic and I found an old box of memories, or something. It was labeled like that in your handwriting, but I've never seen it before. It looked important so I figured I'd put it on your desk."

"Old box of memories, huh?" Nick mumbled. "Don't remember that." Tired or not though, he was curious.

He hoisted himself up. He mostly just used the attic for storing old case files and odd miscellaneous that he couldn't fit in the main room. Walking over, he crushed his mostly-used cigarette into the ashtray on his desk, sitting down to inspect the box sitting beside it. It was covered in dust and the writing was faded, but he could still make out the words which read _Important Memories_. An eyebrow rose. Important memories? What was he, a nostalgic?

Mentally shrugging, he brushed off some of the dust before carefully lifting one of the flaps, aware of Rachel's presence behind him. Slightly tilting the box towards him, the contents inside were revealed to be several holotapes and a picture frame.

"Well, what do we have here?" Nick said to himself. He reached in and pulled out the frame, turning it over at an angle so it wouldn't catch a glare from the light bulb above him.

In the picture was a smiling woman with green eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, loose strands framing her pretty face. At first glance, she had to be no older than thirty, and despite the speckles of dirt on her face, she had a kind of glossy look to her, with perfect teeth and shining eyes. A second glance showed him the probable cause being the bright blue jumpsuit with yellow lettering she was wearing.

"A Vault dweller," Rachel mused. "Do you know her?"

Nick frowned. He didn't, but a third and final look showed him the blank and paint-peeling wall of his office. "I'm not sure," he finally replied.

He set the picture frame off to the side and again reached in the box for one of the holotapes. It had the number 3 on it, and inspecting the others revealed that they were labeled chronologically. They could have been case files, but he was meticulous about using paper for those. "One way to find out."

Rachel was already a thought ahead of him, setting his radio down and pushing the box aside before he could even stand up. He nodded at her before sliding the first tape in and pressing the play button.

Static played for a few seconds, and then, _"hi, Nick. It's me, Annie. I bet you're wondering what I'm doing recording_ _something like this_ _."_

The voice was definitely female, and had a cheerful note in it. Nick glanced at the picture again, putting the voice to the face.

" _I mean, I could write you a letter, or better yet just tell it to your face. But I've got a lot to say, and I'd rather not waste that much paper, and words are pretty… forgettable, you know?"_ There was a pause for a few seconds, the static fading into the foreground. Then, _"the reason I'm doing this is because of DiMA. I… I know it was hard for you, not remembering, or even knowing if it was true. If someone had told me I had family I didn't even remember, I wouldn't believe 'em either."_

Wait, family? What?

" _I definitely thought he was messing with you, or just nutty, but when we were running all around Far Harbor, it gave me time to think. It even started to make sense, you know? Stories you tell me have gaps in them sometimes, especially the older ones. It makes sense that you don't have a lot of memory up there, and after a while you'd just… start to lose pieces of it."_

The tape ended. Nick stared at the radio. Far Harbor? He knew of it, and something prickled in the back of his mind, some long-lost memory struggling for the surface.

"What's she even talking about?" Rachel asked. "You have family?"

He was about to deny it, but something made him hesitate, as if it would be a downright lie. He managed to shake his head, unable to tear his gaze away. He briefly contemplated not listening to the rest, but the detective in him was jumping up and down, and he knew it wouldn't leave him alone.

Nick pulled out another cigarette, and the floor creaked as Rachel shuffled away, probably to get another chair. Thinking about it, his secretary probably wouldn't let it go either. The sound of scraping metal against wood reached his ears as he put in the next tape, and a second later a chair was pushed beside him. He pressed play.

" _It got me thinking. If you lose your memory as time passes, then eventually you'd forget everyone you ever knew: Piper, Amari, Curie, and even Ellie. At first I thought about trying to build memory banks like DiMA has, but then I realized that it would take too much maintenance."_ Annie scoffed audibly. _"I've had enough of clunky machines for a while, to be honest. Anyway, tapes are easier and they probably last longer—I mean, these are over two-hundred years old and barely have scratches on them. Lucky, right?"_ The last word was almost inaudible when she trailed off into a cough, muffled as if through a sleeve. The tape ended there.

"I know Curie, but not everyone else," Rachel said to herself.

Nick inhaled some more smoke, knowing she didn't expect an answer, and pulled out another tape. He just wanted to get through it before he even attempted to start processing any of it.

" _Gee, this is the third tape and I haven't even started yet. I wondered how I should do this, until I finally settled on just telling you a story. About us. Well, us and everyone else. From the time I ran past the window of the Overseer's office having no idea what I was getting myself into, to the day that you left for the case somewhere near the coast just a few weeks ago. It involved a mother looking for her son and I…"_ her voice wavered, and yet another feeling tugged at Nick's mind. _"Well, I don't think I can handle those right now, or maybe ever. And now it's good that I passed it up, because it's easier to do it this way."_ There was another cough, and then a slight, off-beat laugh. _"Sorry, Nick. I think I've come down with something. But here's how it started."_

And tell she did. Over the course of five more tapes, the woman gave Nick—and Rachel—a rather detailed account of their supposed time together: a two-hundred year sleep in a hidden Vault, a 'reverse damsel-in-distress rescue' from an unfinished one; a trip to find her missing son that led them across the 'Wealth; an assault on an organization called the Institute (Rachel was especially curious about that, since it was apparently an old ghost story), and then their journey through Far Harbor. It was consistent, and even plausible, with other stories thrown in at random times adding other people as if remembered suddenly.

But Nick still didn't remember. Not even his supposed brother he was supposed to have. It was far too much to process at once, and he struggled to focus on something else, anything else.

All he had was her voice, so he put all his attention on it. As a result, he started to notice something. Annie, while staying mostly cheerful and steady, seemed to change. The pauses and coughs became more frequent, and her voice grew more strained as she talked. It didn't seem like a normal tired sound from overuse, or even the lament of a mother too late, but something else entirely. It was at the ninth tape that she came to the days before his supposedly last case (that he still had no memory of, by the way). Compared to her other stories, it was rather normal—at least according to Annie. By then her voice was starting to drag, and the pauses and coughs were frequent. Finally there came a pause so long that Nick might have thought it was the end of the tape if not for the static. But finally, she spoke again.

" _And, that's pretty much it. That's our history together. I'm sure you've probably noticed by now that most of what I just told you has involved me in some way or another. It isn't because I know those best, but… look, remember when I said it would be easier to talk this way alone? It isn't for no reason, or because I'm embarrassed. I don't know how, and I don't know why—I'm not a doctor or anything—but sometime after you left, I noticed that my lungs started to feel strange. Kind of tight, but also like I couldn't completely get air in. I figured it was just something I did, so I went to doctor Sun. He looked at me and did a breathing check."_ Annie coughed again. _"And he found—more like heard, I guess—something in my lungs. He started using a lot of medical jargon, but I know none of it is good. I think… I think the Vault had something to do with it._

" _Humans aren't—we shouldn't be in the cold like that for so long. They—"_

The tape shut off. There was only one more left. Nick only sat there, having long forgotten his secretary's unusually quiet presence and the short stump of cigarette in his metal fingers. Looking over at the photo, for the first time he noticed the dark circles, the weary and almost imperceptible strain to the smile, overlooked by the perfect teeth. Her eyes, so bright and cheery, had a hint of something worn and tired to them. Something emotional, and physical. A result of the circumstances she had only vaguely brushed through.

"We don't have to finish," came Rachel's gentle voice beside him. She had a hand on the radio, ready to take it away.

Nick briefly set his good hand over her own, letting her know it was okay, even though he was fairly sure that if he had human lungs, they would be pumping air. Even so, as he pulled out the tenth and final tape, he heard and felt one of his cooling fans a little louder than usual.

" _I'm dying, Nick,"_ came the choppy, almost broken words. _"I don't want to tell you, but I know I am. It started with coughing, but it's gotten worse. I cough up blood now. No amount of stimpaks or Med-x will fix it—Curie told me as much. It could be anywhere from several months, to several weeks, to even days. If you're back before that, you won't leave me alone, no matter how blunt I am."_

There was another muffled cough, but it was louder than the others. _"I know you'll forget about me, Valentine. If you can't even remember your own brother, then what's a best friend? I accept it._ _I can't say I don't have any regrets, but I can't really do anything about them._ _"_ Annie laughed, but it bordered dangerously on a sob. _"_ _They're all buried with my son, anyway_ _."_

Rachel turned away, one hand suspiciously going to her face, though Nick was hardly aware of it.

" _I wish you all the best, Nick Valentine. And, cheer up. Even if you forget all of this, well, maybe this can be your memory._ _Goodbye."_

Just like that it was over, and Nick didn't remember.

And each time he listened to it, as piece by piece he lost a little more of himself, he wondered without fail if it was such a good thing or not.

He never would know.

* * *

There was a room. It was bright and cheery and filled with sunshine, with white curtains that fluttered in the soft breeze. There was no sign of clutter or dirt, no evidence to suggest there had been any kind of war or nuclear devastation that rocked the world to its core.

He could feel the breeze. It was different. He was different?

"You've finally come."

He turned. A woman with blonde hair was in front of him, her green eyes shining with flecks of gold from the sunlight. Or maybe she was the sunlight.

"Annie," he spoke. His voice even sounded different; pure.

The woman, Annie, nodded, and her smile grew. "You remember."

"Of course I do," he said.

She reached out and took his hand. His human hand. "Time to meet the others. We've been waiting a while."

"For me?"

"Yes, you. Who else?"

A door opened in the wall, and they stepped through into the sunshine. There were people he didn't know, but that was okay. He had his memory right beside him, after all.


End file.
